Blemish
by Prisoner of Winter
Summary: Daryl is having a hard time adjusting to the prison, the group is worried. Turns out Daryl has a past trauma involving prison and a prison guard, Hollis. PTSD. Violence. Mentions of Non-con. Dead*line/Walking dead crossover AU - Written in response to a prompt on TWD Kinkmeme.


Dead*line is unavailable to watch (sadly) but there is the trailer, which I will largely be basing this off of!

watch?v=HmbQ-wpj40c

I would recommend watching it first :)

-  
Walking across the old railway bridge, he scans the scene in front of him, observing the gray prison jumpsuits and grimy stonewalls. The prison yard is full of walkers, the tall chain-link fence keeping them contained to the overgrown area.

The words leave his mouth before he even processes what they mean, " That's a shame." What exactly he is referring to, Daryl does not know. Is it a shame that the fuckers didn't have a chance in hell to make it out of there? The prison probably became overrun in a matter of hours. Or was it a shame that this fortified building is crawling with the undead, when this could be the place they have been searching for all winter? One glance at Rick and Daryl knows he is thinking the latter.

The other man has a hopeful calculating look and Daryl's stomach drops, his throat goes dry, and feels the panic edging into his chest. He almost opens his mouth to protest, to deter his friend away from the idea, but images of Lori's round belly and Carl's hungry, defeated look after his father tossed the can of dog food has him closing his mouth, pressing his lips together. Rick is desperate to find safety for his family, and that family includes the rest of the group.

He glances back at the prison; he can see his people living here. Maggie and Beth sitting in the field, soaking up the sun as Carol and Hershel garden. Glenn on watch, only he keeps glancing at Maggie, a smile on his lips as she laughs with Beth. Maybe Carl could be a kid again, enjoying the things boys his age should.

Picturing the life they could have pushes the feeling of panic out of his chest and he feels his shoulders relax a bit, the muscles uncoiling, no overwhelming desire to flee. He can do this. That was in the past, Hollis doesn't belong here with the group of survivors he has come to consider family. He has to let it go.

* * *

Carol's exclamation, " We haven't had this much space since we left the farm." and T-dog whooping and laughing, sends warmth spreading through his gut, into his chest. He's excited at the prospect of a home for himself and the group and he knows he has made the right choice by not trying to change Rick's mind about the prison.

They clear Cellblock C, haul the bodies out into the courtyard to be burned tomorrow. The cellblock is still grimy and covered in gore, splattered brain matter and bone shards on the floor and walls.

The others seek out relatively clean cells, but Daryl is quick to say, " I ain't sleeping in no cage, I'll take the perch." He walks briskly over and pulls an old grey mattress from one of the cells, grabbing his bedroll and settling down with a sigh. He's trying to push down the panic that has been rising, choking him. He listens to Rick settling on the floor and focuses on the other man's breathing, the deep breathes reminding Daryl to also breathe. The group knows how he is with confined spaces; they spent a few weeks in some storage lockers. He had been unbearably tense and quick to anger. The prison already feels worse, they have more room, but the feeling that at any moment he will be gripped by a rough hand and hauled to his feat, beat on or worse lingers like a thick cloud around him.

* * *

Daryl has settled into the mattress and can feel sleep coming to him, the panic and fear is still there but he's managed to push it down, think about other things. He's been unable to sleep, Rick has fallen asleep about an hour ago, his chin against his chest. He'll be sore in the morning and Daryl has contemplated waking the man up and getting him into an actual bed.

There's a loud metallic clang that echoes around the cellblock, as someone pushes their cell door open. Daryl's heart skips several beats and he sits up immediately. He haunches over and can almost feel the clench of hands on him, the fists.

_Hollis saunters into the cell, dragging a chair with him, which he takes a seat in, lighting up a cigar. He takes a deep drag; tasting the smooth smoke in his mouth before he breathes out, smoke billowing around him. Daryl shrinks away from him in his corner, folding in on himself and whimpering._

" Ready to ask for forgiveness?" The large guard rises and stalks toward Daryl, grabbing him by the scruff of his prison jumpsuit and yanking him up, before he delivers a strong right hook to his face. Daryl cries out and tries to curl around himself. Hollis laughs.

Daryl refocuses from the flashback, long enough to recognize Hershel's footsteps, probably leaving to take a piss. He's shaking as he untangles himself from his covers, a cold sweat covering his body. He feels nauseas, his stomach turning and knotting together. He needs to get outside.

He barely makes it out of the cellblock and into the courtyard before he is on his knees, puking his guts up. Maybe this wasn't the right choice, he may not be able to do this.


End file.
